Guess Who's Back
by CrimsonStreaks
Summary: Jack carried on with his life for a few months after Project Mayhem. His new apartment, new job, and life in general forces him to sink lower and lower into depression. He has therapy, medication. After a while, it becomes too much. Someone's back. Slash.
1. Suicidal

It was getting to me. I knew it was. I could feel a gnawing sensation in my stomach as I quietly shut the door behind me, taking a few soft steps into my apartment before slumping against a nearby wall in defeat. I felt sick.

Hell, I'd known it had been coming for a few weeks now. I just didn't think it would come so soon. I wanted to believe that I wasn't getting this way. All of those stupid weekends in therapy weren't exactly helping. Not that I had expected they would. Setting me up with pills and a straight-faced therapist who never seemed to smile occurred to me as something that was only going to make me feel worse.

…Although, I guess for sometime I had believed the pills could do it. Do their job. Make me feel better, drag me out of this fucking depression I seemed to be caging myself in. But the fact was, they weren't working…

Well, in a way, yes, they were. But they were the source of my sickness. They _are_ the source of my sickness. Every fucking day I spend worrying about whether or not I've taken this medication. And every night I return back to this apartment, to sink into the sofa, watch those damn reruns on TV before falling into a deep sleep. My life in general nowadays. But then again, at least I'm _actually_ sleeping…

I clawed a hand through my hair, shutting my eyes briefly as I wondered where Marla was. I could vaguely remember her saying something about being round later. Had she said something about her going somewhere? I didn't know. I guess I must have been zoning out for that short period of time. Oh well. Must have been one of her many clubs she had been mentioning? For a moment, I almost envied her.

I pictured her standing in front of me for a moment, in an attempt to relax. Ever since the destruction of the buildings after Project Mayhem, everything had gotten slightly better. Despite the fact I never actually told her why I had been involved. I kept it all to myself for the first few weeks, and in between the police interviews I'd find myself being drawn towards her presence. She managed to not let me sink rock bottom, I guess. I wanted to thank her. But I wasn't ready to tell her about my…problem. And why not? Because my problem had gone. Gone far away. And hopefully, my problem wasn't coming back. Not that it could anyway.

She'd wanted to move in with me. Or to get me to move in with her. I kept resisting. I do like her, of course I do. I just…wasn't ready. Am not ready. Moving in with someone is considered a big thing. And…I can't help but sometimes wonder if what me and Marla have together is such the _big_ thing that I'd originally thought it would be…

I punched the wall, infuriated with myself. All the tension I'd felt building over the past few days felt like it was oozing out of me. Not a nice feeling, I'll tell you. Again, I envisioned Marla standing next to me, her soft voice whispering in my ear, soothing me as she always did. My little mirage of her didn't appear to be helping.

I am Jack's cry for help.

With a small sob, I crumpled to the floor in a heap beside the wall, tilting my head backwards so I could repeatedly hit it.

_Thump. Thump._

What the hell is wrong with me? Why the fuck am I feeling like this?

_Thump._

Jesus, I thought I had sorted this out with Sarah, the therapist. Fat lot of good she appeared to be doing for me. I smiled thinly.

_Thump. Thump. _

Okay, my head was hurting now. I grimaced and paused for a moment. Maybe I should write a list or something? Find out the source of my fucking issues. That could help. Possibly?

_Thump. Thump._

Yeh. The pain was a bit of a relief. Feeling it throb through my head warmed me slightly. I could feel something. That was a start, right? I let my body relax for a moment, thoughts buzzing.

Was Marla making me like this? My eyes travelled towards the picture opposite me, and as I scanned it, my fingers tightened in my hair, and I realised I couldn't remember clutching it in the first place.

With a little groan, I attempted to lift myself off of the floor, feeling my body shudder slightly, almost as though I was cold.

My eyes widened.

I am Jack's cold sweat.

All this time I'd been thinking about my fucking pills. And I hadn't taken them this morning. I knew I'd forgotten something.

_Shit_.

I stumbled over my own feet as I rushed towards my bathroom, cursing as my shoulder hit the doorway on the way. As well as my head throbbing, I now had a new pain blossoming in my left shoulder. This day was getting _better_ and better.

As I walked into the immaculate tiled room, I forcibly suppressed a shudder at the whiteness of it. The tiles glimmered at me from all directions, almost blinding me as I swiftly switched on the lights. I had no clue why I'd bothered to get the bathroom refurnished when I'd moved in. It had originally been a dump. The whole place, in fact. But after I had dished out a shit load of money, the place looked…neat. Tidy. A small voice nagged me in the back of my mind.

_It looks a lot like your old__ apartment..._

"Fuck." I murmured, wiping stupid thoughts from my stupid mind as knelt down, close to a small set of drawers. I kept my stash of medication there. Not like I was going to keep it under my bed for safe-keeping, right?

My mind whirled back for a moment, as I remembered the day I'd admitted to the police what I had done. About my leadership in Project Mayhem. I'd never felt so brave in my life, nor so fucking afraid. But the thought of Marla getting even more suspicious had spurred my actions. I sighed. The police had suspected me anyway. But the thing is, after admitting, I hadn't been taken seriously. I grimaced. Members of Project Mayhem were still in the police force. They were everywhere. I couldn't escape from them. It was fucking impossible. And the thing that scared me was that they had known. They had fucking known I was ready to admit. Just like I had before. They managed to convince people I was innocent, that I was just some crazy lunatic. I guess, in a way, I am. And they'd kicked me out of the station for it. I'm still thankful to this day my balls haven't been cut off.

I stared down at the jar of pills in my hand and blinked twice, turning it over and running my thumb across its label. I hadn't realised I'd taken it out. _Weird_. I quickly let my mind drift.

Fight Club members were everywhere. They were literally every place I went to. Wherever I walked to. Took a plane to. Took a bus to. It was impossible to escape their knowing gazes. Although, for a while I managed to hold their expressions. I had to. Otherwise Marla would have wondered why I was edging away from society. And I wasn't going to tell her.

Marla knew I was partially responsible for what happened in Project Mayhem. I just never told her the whole truth. I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want her to have to hear it. I used the hole in my cheek as a lie. An excuse to get out of the situation. It still makes me feel guilty. I'd managed to convince her I was the victim in the event. She went along with it. Things progressed significantly. Things _have_ progressed significantly.

But anyway, members were everywhere. Still are pretty much everywhere. They wanted to talk with me. They thought I was still their fucking leader. They're just an army of space monkeys with no commander.

I lowered my gaze further downwards in disgust, feeling myself quiver inside for some unknown reason. I managed to shy away from everyone apart from Marla. I did some journalism kind of work at home. I still do. Fight Club members still carry on. I'm always one step ahead of them though. I can predict what they'll do every time. And I see it on the news constantly. I don't know who took over the place, but they _really_ need to learn how to be sly. Because of Project Mayhem, a few members were caught and thrown into jail. I don't pity them. Brainwashed space monkeys. That's what they are.

Resting my head against the cool side of the sink from where I was perched on the floor, I closed my eyes and tried to reengage myself in my memories once more.

Marla had told me I needed professional help. I don't know what made her say it though. I'd been sleeping fine. I'd been working fine. I'd even been eating a lot more than usual. And I'm not generally a great fan of eating these days, hence why I've lost some weight. But she signed me onto some therapy. Not the stuff I liked either. This was _deep_ stuff. I knew Marla had suspected something, after the way I went on about Tyler. But still, it shocked me. I'd gone in the end. After all, was there something better to do in my life? No. I didn't think so. She'd pushed me into a room, with a stupid couch and the smell of coffee lingering in the air. A woman, Sarah, had introduced herself. We didn't hit it off. Although, I think she did try at first. Her insufferable questions made me grow agitated. I carefully dodged any questions I knew could lead to me talking about Tyler. And I also managed to convince her I was depressed, and that was why I was there. She fell for it. She fell for it _really_ hard. And so did Marla. In just a few days, I was scheduled for more meetings, prescribed with _happy_ drugs, and Marla was informed to spend as much time with me as possible.

They reckoned I was suicidal. I snorted in the emptiness of my bathroom at the absurdity of it. No fucking way. And although I knew I was on my way to being depressed, I wasn't about to believe that I was as fucked up as I used to be.

But anyway, a few months afterwards, I'm still going, despite the fact I'm currently sitting on the floor of my bathroom, pale as a ghost and shaking because of something that I can't quite figure out.

Marla wasn't here to talk to. I didn't realise I'd become so dependant upon her just being in the same room as me. I felt sick because of it. And not only that. I felt sick of Project Mayhem, even though it was almost 8 months ago. I felt sick of its members. I felt sick of this fucking apartment, how the cleanliness symbols normality, and how far away I was from reaching it. I generally felt sick of life today. No change there.

I chewed on my lip, biting down so hard that I could taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth as I pondered on how Marla would react if one day I just disappeared. Vanished. I was genuinely sure that she was becoming tired of me anyway. Oh, what a _shame_ it would be to her if I edged out of her life. I smirked sadly. She probably wouldn't mind. After all, being like this was just keeping her down, right? And hell, I had pondered over her sanity as well, half-wondering if she might commit suicide sometime herself and end up leaving me alone.

Well, she hadn't. She was still alive. At this stupid club thing of hers. I glanced at my watch, shivering. It was getting towards nine in the evening. She'd be round about half ten. I had _ages_ to wait yet.

I sucked in a deep breath and glanced at the pills in my grip, picking out the ones I'd grown familiar with using, before growing tired with how slowly this was taking and pouring out masses of them into my hand, watching with a dull expression as they overflowed on the edge of my palm and clattered onto the floor. Lots of them seemed to be surrounding me. An army of pills. I hastily tried to retrieve them; scooping up large piles and pushing them back into the jar, before stopping and staring at them.

Blankly, I tried to recollect how many I was meant to take. Two? Yeh, two. But hey, today I wasn't feeling so good. How about five? Or, scrap that. Ten. Why not? Why shouldn't I take at least ten of these fucking pills and just never wake up afterwards? It sounded interesting. It sounded like an attractive kind of idea. I blinked. No, I wasn't suicidal.

I just wanted a rest. That too much to ask? No. Lots of people have normal lives. But where I live, who I socialise with, what I've been through…

They're not exactly normal things.

So, why the fuck should I have to deal with them anymore? I could throw it all out of the window right now. I quivered again, a shudder working itself up from the bottom of my spine as I let a few pills fall through my fingers. It was a reasonable idea.

Eyes glazing over slightly, I half-wondered how I'd gotten into this situation. My life was just crazy, I decided. I pressed my forehead against the sink, harder. And then, I felt something stir inside of me.

Leaning towards the toilet, I just about managed to open it before spilling my inside's contents out in a long heaving gasp. Fuck.

I gripped the edge of the toilet so tightly, my knuckles turned white as my teeth chattered. Today was not a nice day. And the day before that had sucked. And the day before that.

Letting out a groan, my legs bucked again and I fell heavily onto the floor again, beside the toilet, still gripping onto it. And slowly, I turned towards the pills spread out against the white canvas of the floor.

I am Jack's complete lack of interest in life.

I shifted my weight, grabbed as many pills as I could, and mused on it for a moment. Well, it certainly wouldn't be painful, right? I rolled my eyes. Who the fuck cared? I raised at least 5 in a cup motion with my hand. I could end my suffering now, and no-one apart from Marla would care. I vaguely wondered what my funeral would be like. If I had one, of course. My hand grew closer to my mouth.

"Don't even think about it."

I froze, the pills already so close to touching my lips. The voice came from the doorway. And the voice was familiar. Eyes widening, I lifted my head to stare in the direction of the voice. And then I dropped the pills.


	2. Unreal

**Disclaimer**: sighs Unfortunately, I don't own Fight Club, nor the characters. I can dream though. XD

* * *

He stood in the doorway, casually leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded as his eyes bore into mine, no hint of a playful smirk on his face. The space monkey buzz cut was gone. He looked like he had when I had first met him. The same scruffy hairstyle. A silence grew between us as I sat there, shocked. 

Fuck, I wanted to scream. My mind screamed at me. My mind was screaming a warning. But I couldn't move. I sat there, like a deer in headlights as he continued to stare at me purposefully, before I willed myself enough to shut my eyes.

_This was just a dream. Not real. Just a dream._

"This isn't a dream."

Again, my mind screamed at me, and I kept my eyes shut. No, no. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't here. He wasn't real. Tyler, he…he was dead. I killed him. I knew I had. I'd seen him die and had watched him leave me.

"I'm not fucking dead, Jack. Although I soon will be if you don't get your act together."

There was no coldness in his tone, but yet his words made me tense up and freeze. I squeezed my eyes shut harder and clenched one of my fists.

_My cave. I needed to find the entrance to my cave._

"Oh, not that meditation shit again." He stated with a sigh, and I heard him shift his weight from one foot to another.

"You're not…fucking…real." I rasped out finally, throat aching from my sickness problem earlier, as I buried by face into my hands.

"Of course not." He droned sarcastically, and I could feel his gaze burning into my neck as I tried to whisk him away and out of my mind. "But let's not get into all of that again."

Suddenly, I was furious. I tore my hands away from my face, and from my position on the floor, glared up at him.

"Fuck. Off." I said angrily, eyes daring him to speak a word against me. "You're just a figment of my imagination. You shouldn't be here. Get lost!"

It was almost as though my sudden outburst had satisfied some hunger of his, because all of a sudden, a smirk was playing at the corner of his lips as he looked down at me from the doorway.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, you know."

"I can fucking try." I snarled back.

Scooping up handfuls of pills, I grimaced and turned away from him as I began to push at least two into my mouth, with plenty more to follow afterwards.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed with a sick fascination as the smirk immediately dropped from Tyler's face, and his expression changed from lazy to…_worried_? Oh shit. He looked angry. I quickly began to swallow the first two as fast as possible before I felt his hand on my shoulder, dragging me backwards, whilst his other hand attempted to wrench the pills out of my palm.

"Get off of me." I growled, aiming a kick at him. He didn't retaliate, surprisingly, and soon I was pinned to the ground as he held my wrists above my head, gritting his teeth in concentration as he picked pills from my clenched fists.

"Fuck!" I yelled, trying to force his weight off of me so I could reclaim the pills that he'd taken. His mouth set in a grim line as he continued to wrestle me for them.

"Give me the pills." He said softly, and immediately I was furious at him for his calm attitude. Sliding my arm from his grasp, I swung it round and clipped him on the head, taking advantage of his surprise by scrambling out from underneath him and attempting to gather as many pills as possible off the floor.

"Jack." I heard a voice behind me warn as I made a break out of the door towards my room, all the while praying he'd just vanish.

_He isn't real, he doesn't exist, and he'll go away if I make him…_

"Jack!" this time it wasn't a warning. He yelled at me angrily from behind me, and I swore as something tripped me up onto the rug in the middle of my lounge. A heavy weight was once again pressing up against me, my fingers being pried apart as my last hope was taken from my hands. I shouted something before my voice was muffled by a hand.

_He's not real, he's not real._

"Scream and shout all you like, but these damn pills of yours aren't getting back to you until you tell me just exactly what the fuck is going on!"

His serious tone made me shudder, and I attempted to bite his hand, only resulting in a frustrated sigh from him as his clamped grip over my mouth only seemed to tighten.

"Shut up." He said sharply, glaring at me.

"Mhhm mhm mhhhhm!" I yelled back, cursing his hand. Turns out that you can't speak well with a gun clamped between your teeth, but it's even worse with Tyler's hand gripped around your jaw. I glared back.

Why the fuck wasn't he disappearing? He should be gone. I squeezed my eyes shut again, hearing an exasperated sigh from above me as I forced him away.

_Leave. Leave now. I'__m in control._

"Whatever, man. You can try and get rid of me for hours and hours, but I'm not going to go. I'm not leaving. Or, you can open your fucking eyes and I'll let go of you."

Sounded like a reasonable idea. I briefly wondered if I was asleep. This had to be a dream. Tyler was dead. But, then again, his hand over my mouth felt _real_. My eyes snapped open fearfully.

Catching a glimpse of his frustrated expression, I urged myself to sink lower into the floor. Maybe I was more mentally disturbed than I'd thought. Or…_yeh_…this _had_ to be a dream.

The hand over my mouth was warily removed, and Tyler leant back slowly, allowing me to sit up. I chose not to. He wasn't here, so what was the point? Continuing to lie on the floor was comfortable anyway. I am Jack's need for normality. _And_ those damn pills. I shut my eyes against the bright lights above me. Funny thing was, I couldn't remember turning them on.

"Look at me."

It was a demand, not a statement. I'd known Tyler long enough to realise that. But wait! Was I referring to him as real now? I bit my tongue, refusing to growl back a comment in his direction. Because, if I did that, then I'd be speaking to _someone_. And that someone would be _him_. And he doesn't exist. He's just an imaginary friend. A _dead_ one. One that tried to kill Marla and almost killed me, although, I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to.

I am Jack's complete confusion in the situation.

_I really needed to get some sleep.__ This couldn't be fucking happening._

"I said, look at me."

There was complete anger in his voice, and I gritted my teeth.

"Get…away…from…me." I finally blurted out, eyes opening long enough to send the fury in my gaze in his direction.

He had sat back, sitting on the floor, and leaning against my two-hundred quid sofa, one I'd purchased recently considering the price wasn't _that_ bad. Too bad his cocky attitude hadn't changed. From where he was sitting, his head was tilted as his eyes looked over me, almost hungrily, in a way that reminded me of the past. His eyes looked shadowed. I immediately drew back, sitting up a little and shifting backwards, until I was about a couple of metres away from him.

"You changed your hair." I stated after a moment, looking at it with a blank expression before lowering my eyes to the floor.

He grinned, a grin I wanted to wipe off his smug face, before relaxing a little and tilting his head to the other side, analysing me. He was judging me, I realised with little interest. He waited for a moment before speaking.

"Yeh. Back to my old style. I'm guessing you preferred it that way, right?"

He grinned again, noticing my discomfort as I looked away quickly.

"Why are you here?" I muttered softly, staring across the room purposely, forcing him out of my vision. I imagined the grin falling from his face.

"Good question." He said, and I heard him jump to his feet suddenly, startling me into turning around to look at him. "Why _am_ I here?"

My jaw tensed, as did the rest of my body. "I asked you first. You don't know the answer, then get out."

He acknowledged me with a tilt of his head, eyes still glimmering in the light with something I couldn't quite make out as he stepped forward. "Well, if you want to get all _technical_ about it…" he droned sarcastically.

"Get lost, Tyler."

His features lit up in fake joy. "Ah! So you do still know my name? That's great news." Smirking, he took another step forward.

I rolled my eyes, trying to calm myself. "How could I forget your fucking name? You ruined my life." I murmured under my breath.

"Of course I did." His sarcasm didn't waver. "But hey, look around now. Without me you've gotten a great apartment-" he peered around, eyebrows quirking upwards as he spotted a picture of Marla nearby, "-you're still with that Marla girl-" was it just me, or did I hear bitter resentment in his voice? "-and you're obviously working." I watched him glance in the direction of papers scattered all over the table.

I didn't answer him. I am Jack's mind-whirling confusion and anger. I knew that he realised his comments were getting to me. I just wasn't prepared to show it. Sullenly, I looked around and gave a small nod.

He turned, flashing me a grin before becoming all serious again. His head tilted to the side once more. He reminded me of a dog. His hair sticking out in all directions only enhanced this, I mused, the golden-brown colour of it matching in _perfectly_ with one of the pillows behind him, on my sofa.

_I truly am Ikea-boy. _

I blinked, watching as he tugged his right hand through his hair, gaze still uncomfortably fixed on me. What did he want, a picture? My shoulders sunk a little under his scrutiny.

"But then again…" he pressed on, tone dangerously lowering. "After what I've just seen, maybe being without me hasn't been quite the _vacation_ you thought it would."

I glared at him. "If you hadn't appeared in my life, this wouldn't have happened."

"Hey, don't blame me. I just want to know why the fuck you were about to down a whole jar of pills a second ago. Oh! And you _could_ also explain why you fucking shot me in the head."

He took another step towards me, and I automatically shifted backwards, against the wall. My head tilted up to look at him, trying to hide my nervousness and replace it with anger. And I was definitely feeling angry.

"Well, for one thing, you were going to blow up all those buildings-"

"Which I did." He intervened with a toothy grin.

"-and you were going to kill Marla." I spoke irritably.

"_So_ close, too." His eyes narrowed.

"And you were fucking controlling me and forcing me to lead Project Mayhem, that was just a _bit_ of a motivator."

He nodded then rolled his eyes. "I get the picture. But either way, my plan worked out. _Mostly_. You didn't stop me. And shooting me in the head obviously hasn't worked." He turned around, motioning at his hair before kneeling down slightly, eye-level with me. I glared. "I wasn't controlling you, Jack. I was simply helping you along. Nudging you. People may be the all-singing all-dancing crap of the world. But…_you_. You and _me_ are different, and we could easily accomplish whatever we wanted to. I wanted you to believe that. You should."

He smirked and I turned my face away from him.

"Stop saying, _we_ Tyler. There is no _we_." I grimaced, adding bitterly, "We're the same person."

"True." He said softly, watching me with his annoyingly close gaze, before he sat back a little. "And you still haven't answered my question."

He looked at me accusingly, almost demandingly, and I forced myself to meet his eyes, fist clenching and unclenching in irritation.

"What question would that be?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"No, wouldn't dream of it. Getting on the wrong side of my imaginary _friend_. Never." I said, throat tightening as I stared angrily at the floor.

His stare at me only intensified, his eyes watching my face closely. I swore and turned away from him. Finally, he spoke, speaking clearly and slowly, like he thought I was some kind of two year old. "Why…did …you try…and kill…yourself?"

"I didn't." I avoided his question well, in my opinion.

There was no small chuckle from him. No playful smirk. Instead, he shifted closer, as though he expected me to suddenly bolt. Huh. Like I was going to be able to run away from him. I'd tried before. Obviously failed. Because he was here again. I choked back a sob. I am Jack's complete idiot for thinking he'd be gone.

"Well, you had me fooled. Generally, when you're holding mountains of pills in one hand and sitting on the bathroom floor, looking sick and looking tired-" he motioned towards my eyes, which I already knew had dark circles underneath them, "-then you can expect a person to believe you're on the verge of topping yourself."

He glared at me this time, and I could feel my anger slowly ebbing away from me with frantic worry. I couldn't accept his presence. He _wasn't_ here.

He looked at me. "You've not been sleeping either."

I glared at him. I wasn't going to answer him. How could I explain to Tyler what I felt? _I_ didn't even know what I felt. I had no reason to top myself, did I? I had a life. I had a home. I had Marla.

_Marla_.

I looked at my watch.

And then I looked back at Tyler, feeling weary all of a sudden. With slight wooziness, I remembered. I'd managed to take those two pills before Tyler got them. Great. Now I was feeling their affects. All of a sudden, I was tired.

The scary thing was, Tyler seemed to be sensing it. He raised his eyebrows curiously at my dazed expression, still waiting for an answer from me. I slumped back against the wall in response.

Falling asleep could help. He'd go. He'd vanish. It'd go back to normality. Whatever that was…

"Shit." I could barely register what Tyler had just said, but it sounded enough like that as my eyelids began to droop. I caught his eyes shimmering worriedly in the light, and yawned.

"You're not getting out of this that easily." I heard him murmur, and then his hands were wrapped around my waist, pulling me up.

I blinked and tried to struggle against him.

Thing is, my movements were slow. Sluggish. Fuck.

I am Jack's numbing sensation and extreme tiredness. I was pretty sure those pills weren't usually like this on me. Maybe it was stress levels? Blame Tyler.

I opened my mouth to shout at Tyler, to force his hands off of me, not wanting to be anywhere near him. And then I blinked, yawning. Okay, the world was spinning. I'd taken more than two pills, I was sure. Oops. I let out a small chuckle.

"You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh." Tyler muttered into my ear, dragging me towards my room, and I tensed, head dropping forward as I remembered him saying the same thing to me on the plane. The first time I had met him.

Wait! There was no him! He _didn't_ exist.

I knew he could sense my discomfort. I could practically feel the smirk on his face as he pulled me towards my room. But there wasn't anything I could now. I. Was. Tired. Feeling myself suddenly shudder as a cold wave passed through me, I didn't realise Tyler had placed me on my bed until my head was sinking into the pillow.

I groaned. My insides were hurting suddenly. What the fuck? Why was I dizzy? I stared at the swirl patterns on the opposite wall in fascination, seeing colours dash around my head. Tyler stepped back a little, long enough for me to be able to see him standing beside me.

I frowned and opened my mouth again to protest. "You're…not…real."

He didn't reply, and in the darkness of my room, I suddenly felt a little hope. He'd gone. But then I saw him step forward. My eyelids drooped of their own accord, closing swiftly as my mind went numb. Not taking those pills again.

I am Jack's desperation.

"Leave me alone." I breathed before my body muscles went limp, my breathing growing slower and heavier. It wasn't until I felt a soft tingle on my neck that I realised he was bending down, close to me, a small smile on his lips as he watched me slowly drift into the land of nod. He spoke directly into my ear, words that made me want to yell and kick something. Words he'd spoken not too long before I thought I'd killed him. Words that made me go cold.

"I'll bring us through this. As always. I'll carry you - kicking and screaming - and in the end you'll thank me."

I am Jack's cold sweat.

* * *

**AN**: Here's hoping you enjoyed reading this. I'm not a very good writer, but hey, I can try, right? I'm sorry if you noticed any mistakes or anything, I haven't really checked it over much. But hopefully, you get the general direction this is going in. Cheers, and please, drop a review if you can. They're like my own version of a happy drug. XD 


	3. Fighting

**Disclaimer**: I wanna own Fight Club. But I can't. Which sucks. I haven't even got the DVD's yet...but...I'm getting them through the post soon, so mwaha.

* * *

I slowly became aware of a cool hand on my forehead, a thumb lazily rubbing circles onto my skin. And then it hit me. Tyler. My drowsiness quickly subsided, although I could still feel it running through my veins.

Sitting up as fast as possible, I knocked the hand away from my face and yelled at the dark figure sitting nearby, my throat aching all of a sudden before my body started to shake from a racking cough.

I bent over swiftly, and groaned, feeling sick all over again, before a face pushed itself into my view.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I stared into the dark eyes of Marla, my own bright orbs sparkling with confusion. Oh crap. She stared back, her pale skin illuminated in the darkness of my room. Huh. I guess she'd only just gotten back. My eyes travelled around my room frantically, seeing no sign of Tyler. Almost instantly I was letting out a sigh of relief. Then my eyes swivelled back towards Marla's accusing stare.

"…sorry." I managed to mumble, still wary. "I…feel _really_ ill."

Her expression softened, and she opened her mouth to say something, but I was already bolting out of my room, through the lounge and towards the bathroom just in time for me to be sick again. I groaned as I realised my shoes were off, the cold tiled floor seeping upwards and causing my body to suffer from an involuntary shiver.

I forced myself _not_ to sink to my knees as I heaved out another load from my insides, staring at it disdainfully.

"Jesus, you look like something out of The Exorcist." Came a voice from the doorway. I turned, relaxing a little as I watched Marla raise her eyebrows in disgust at me.

"I'm good at scaring people like that." I muttered.

"The Exorcist isn't scary, dumbass." She said lightly, stepping towards me.

"For you, oh woman who can deal with anything." I smirked, and turned back to get rid of what I'd just scarily thrown up. Gross. I eyed Marla once more, and then grinned a little in an effort to forget what had happened earlier.

"You're not smoking." I stated.

She looked at me, rolling her eyes before flicking a piece of her dark hair out of her eyes.

"I lost my last packet." She replied airily.

I would have laughed at her. But I didn't feel happy enough. Instead, I smiled slightly and turned away, freezing as I spotted the pills still spread over the floor. Marla was watching me. Naturally, her attention turned to the floor as well. I watched in slow horror as she frowned.

"Okay, why's your medication all over the floor?" she asked, inspecting it as she knelt down a picked up a pill between her finger and thumb. I cringed. Then she turned back to look at me.

I am Jack's wish to wither away and vanish from Marla's prying eyes.

I shrugged. Well, what's a guy to do? I wasn't exactly going to tell her that just an hour or so ago, I'd tried to kill myself and been stopped by my fucking imaginary friend. But…truthfully, _had_ I? My forehead creased up in concentration and confusion. No. Come on. It…couldn't have been real. It _couldn't_ have.

I shuddered.

And Marla looked like she'd noticed. Her expression hardened.

"Jack." She warned.

"Look, I dropped it earlier on." I supplied with another shrug.

She didn't look convinced. "And you didn't clean it up? Why are you so pale?"

"Why are you being so pushy?" I snapped back, jaw tensing. Her eyes narrowed, and I mentally cursed myself.

"You know what?!" she sharply intruded me opening my mouth to apologise. "Fine. You want to be like that? I'll just go. Excuse me for being fucking worried."

"No!" I found myself saying, almost pleading with her, as she turned and headed out of the door. I quickly followed her, clutching her arm to prevent her from walking on. She couldn't leave me on my own here. Not after what I'd seen. Not after…Tyler appearing. My eyes wandered around the room again. Maybe it had just been a dream. God, I hoped so.

My hopes plummeted as she turned round, eyes blazing. She prodded me in the chest and I winced. No, it didn't hurt. It was just the fact that I hadn't argued with her in a while. Seeing her all angry again reminded me of Tyler's affect on my life.

"There's still something wrong with you." She accused. "And you're never going to tell me what it is, are you?"

I scratched the back of my head. She had me there. "Look," I started carefully. "There isn't anything wrong. I'm fine. Just…feeling…really ill. Must have been something I caught at the club."

Ah, the Club. My perfect excuse. Something I'd come up with ages ago. I needed Marla to believe I wanted to be out there. Socialising. The word made me laugh bitterly whenever I thought of it. It reminded me too much of the people I'd see if I walked outside my apartment. The familiar faces I'd have to deal with making eye contact with. I wasn't sure if I could handle that. Admittedly, I still felt the itch to get into a fight. To be able to punch someone and have them punch me back. The urge was still there. A result of Tyler's influence over me.

I realised Marla was staring at me. Staring at me suspiciously. But there was _hope_. A small pitiful smile appeared, playing on the corner of her lips. I smiled back. This had to be a good sign.

"All right." She said. "But I still want you to talk to Sarah."

Her words made me freeze once more.

"What?!" I blurted out in surprise.

"Sarah. She told me she wanted to speak to you again sometime again this week." Marla looked at me questioningly. "You'll have to ring her tomorrow."

Okay, wait. Just stop. What? What the hell was this? Were they monitoring me or something now? I felt myself growing angry. Since when had Marla decided to take over my life? And were her and Sarah talking about me behind my back? What happened to fucking confidentiality?

"…Yeh, well, Sarah can wait." I said bluntly.

Marla, being Marla, typically reacted in the way I knew she would whenever I mentioned putting off my therapy. It was like she was my mother.

"Fuck you Jack!" she said loudly, causing me to look downwards in frustration. "When I said I wanted to help you, I meant it. Sarah's just doing her fucking job. You'll ring her, or I will!"

Okay…now the anger ebbing away from me was returning. Fast. I sighed mentally.

"Blackmail, huh?" I questioned furiously, gaze piercing into hers. I was unable to contain my irritation now. Oh great. This wasn't going to be a good thing. "Just fucking leave it. I don't need your pity or your damn help. Sarah isn't helping me. Just face it. I don't need this anymore, and I'm not going to go."

Wow. I was pretty sure I sounded like a stubborn 9 year old kid who didn't want to go to the dentist. The comparison made me smirk a little. Unfortunately, Marla's hand wiped that right off. Her hand came out of nowhere, slapped me across my right cheek with such force, I stumbled to the side in shock. _Fuck_. I was genuinely sure my cheek was red. But…_wow_. I didn't realise she could hit that hard.

And it had been a while since someone had hit me. Even if _that_ was only a slap.

I heard a snicker, and blinked, rubbing my cheek as I turned to look at Marla. But she was already stomping towards the door, her heels clicking together every so often as she grew further away from me.

No.

Nu-uh.

"Marla!" I shouted after her, angry at myself, before rushing after her.

"Get lost." She yelled over her shoulder, and before I knew it, the door was slammed in my face. I could hear her walking down the hallway, and in a desperate attempt to help things a little, I opened my door and called after her again.

"I'm sorry."

The words didn't affect her. She continued to walk on, hair flying behind her in little messy strands. I stared.

_If this wasn't going to get Sarah on my case, I didn't know what was. _

I am Jack's weariness.

After a few more moments of staring down the corridor, wondering what the hell had just happened, I slowly turned around to peer back into my apartment fearfully. Now I was alone.

I shut the door quietly behind me and headed towards the lounge, rubbing my cheek and jaw gingerly before sinking into the sofa. The magazines scattered across the little coffee table I had were all boring. I'd not read them before or anything. But I could just tell by their covers that they were pointless. Models of women, men and kids stared happily up at me from glossy pages. It made me feel sick looking at them. I chose, instead, to peer at the TV.

Remote in hand, I set about doing something I had a talent for. In fact, I was sure everyone had a talent for this. Channel hopping. Great sport of mine. It would distract me. It would stop me thinking about Tyler. It would help me fall asleep if I was lucky. And it might even interest me. I tugged a hand through my hair, and as the clock ticked on, I felt myself sink lower and lower into the soft pillows. Something blared on the screen, and I watched it with mild interest, seeing a car chase. Wow. I must be watching a movie then. That would explain why there were so many machine guns and weird actors that I thought looked familiar.

I stifled a yawn with my hand, and as the movie went on, I began to turn off, shoulders slumping, my eyelids eventually closing. I…felt tired. Maybe this was just the affect TV had on me in general. I was just happy that I was falling asleep. Most days, I found it hard to. My thoughts drifted to Marla for a moment, and I wondered if I should bother calling her back soon…

My head dropped to the side finally, and I gave in to the sweet temptation of Ikea's fluffy pillows and allowed myself to relax.

* * *

I found myself wondering why I could feel sunlight shining through my eyelids, and scrunched up my face as my mind began to work again, waking up from its seemingly long rest as I stretched a little, eyes still closed.

The sofa felt a hell of a lot more comfortable than my bed. I was tempted to stay tucked in the warmth of the pillows and whatever else I was resting against. I blearily glanced around before swinging around my legs and running both of my hands through my hair.

"Took you a while."

All traces of my weariness disappeared as I whirled around to see Tyler sitting in the armchair, watching me with amusement. I froze. He smirked in response, and leant forward, cocking his head to the side.

"Well, _look_ at that. You slept last night." He added, with a grin.

I felt myself grow agitated and nervous. Had he watched me last night? Was he actually here? My continuous staring at him must have been represented as shock, because he realised I wasn't planning to say anything, and he stood.

"Yes, I am here, and no, I'm not going."

I frowned slightly, fingers tightening in the fabric of the sofa. "…Why are you doing this to me?" I finally croaked out.

He contemplated me for a second before stalking towards me, and sinking heavily into the sofa beside me. I stared at him, not wanting to believe this.

"This is fucked up. This is _so_ fucked up." I said finally after he said nothing, shaking my head and turning away from him. His hand suddenly wrapped itself firmly around my wrist, dragging me round to face his sharp gaze.

"You're not going anywhere." He stated simply, as though he expected me to just give in to listening to him.

I wrenched my arm out of his grasp angrily.

"Get off of me." I said, turning away.

"Look at me."

"No."

"I said, look at me."

His hand grasped my chin and jerked it round to face him. Immediately, my jaw started to ache and I blinked back a few tears. Hell, these weren't tears of pain. I'd been through too many fights for this. No, I was trying to hold back my built up emotions here. And it was tough.

"You tried to be someone else." He stated seriously, head tilting as he shifted closer to me, hand still firmly latched onto me. "But nothing seemed to _change_, did it?"

I resented him in that moment. Him, with his cocky attitude, his golden hair, his fucking colourful suit and his piercing gaze, watching me as though he thought he knew everything about me. I felt like I was trapped in a cage. I didn't answer. I wouldn't. Even though…there was a part of me…that couldn't deny what he had just said. I quickly pushed that part of me down.

Unfortunately, Tyler seemed to catch a glimpse of it, and he smirked a little.

"Look, when you manage to get your head round the fact that _yes_, I am back, and _yes_, I'm not going, then hopefully, you'll be able to speak again, _right_?"

He wasn't being sarcastic this time. Weird. I watched him warily. Then spoke up.

""Just tell me why you're here." I said.

He grinned, a slow lazy smile that spread across his face.

"You need me."

I smirked a little at him after a long moment, mind whirring for possible come-backs. "No, I _really_ don't." I retorted.

"This is coming from the guy who tried to top himself last night?"

I glared at him. "My fucking choice, not yours. I don't need you for anything."

He was chewing something, I realised, watching the grin on his face go down a little as he let go of me and sat back comfortably.

"_Our_ choice, I think you'll find." He said. "And you need me, because without me, you're _nothing_."

"Because that explains why I have such a great apartment and life." I said, glaring.

He chuckled and shook his head, eyes lowering for a moment before raising themselves to my exasperated expression. I just wanted him to fucking go. I couldn't handle him being here. Not now.

"So, why'd you try to top yourself then?" he asked simply, questioningly.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. His grin was gone, once more, and he was staring at me in an intimidating manner. No change there.

"And I'm _really_ likely to talk to _you_ about it." I muttered.

"You know what's really fucking me off?" he asked, giving me no time to snap back at him. "That you just won't admit that _Marla_ is the one who is dragging you down."

I stared at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You _know_ what I'm talking about." He kept his gaze firmly locked with mine, daring me to contradict to him.

A moment of silence grew between us, crackling with tension in a way, and I felt my shoulders droop slightly. I hated this man. And this man was _me_. Maybe that was my problem. He was destroying me…or was _I_ destroying myself?

I am Jack's confusion.

Marla's face swam into my thoughts, and I automatically shook my head, denying Tyler's damn statement. My eyes narrowed as I looked at him.

"Marla's fine. There's nothing wrong with her being here with me. That's not my problem. _You_ are my fucking problem. You're the fucking _reason_ I tried to top myself, all right!?" I growled angrily.

His response was _not_ what I expected. Another grin. He looked extremely pleased with himself. Like a cat that had just been given a _whole _fucking bath full of cream. I was wary instantly. The guy was crazy.

And then he laughed. I felt him shift a little closer to me on the sofa, and drew back slightly, not wanting to appear afraid of him. I was not intimidated. No way.

"_Exactly_. You topped yourself…because of me."

I quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. Wait, was he admitting it now? I stared at him. Tyler never admitted stuff like that, did he?

"You," he carried on with a satisfied smirk, "You tried to top yourself because I wasn't here."

I would have laughed if I hadn't been frozen still.

"_You_," he pressed on, "You missed me."

Then, he sat back; that insufferable smirk still on his face. I was staring at him once more.

Just stop. _Okay_, rewind.

What.The.Fuck.

What was he talking about? I let out a small chuckle at his idiocy, and then scowled at his non-changing expression.

"I never fucking missed you." I said, voice growing higher as I talked on. "Your voice in my head finally vanished. That's a good thing. That was a fucking _good_ thing."

He shook his head in denial, smiling at me. "You missed my voice in your damn head. Without me there to help you, to talk to you, to give you a reason to live your damn life, you just settled back into watching sitcoms on your TV and not being able to sleep."

He sounded extremely pleased. Too pleased. I clenched my fists. Now I had even more of a reason to be thoroughly pissed off.

"You have no purpose." He finally stated.

I am Jack's swinging fist.

I landed a punch on the right hand side of Tyler's jaw, knocking his head into the sofa before jumping up off of it and heading out the door, grabbing my coat on the way. I didn't bother looking back. Fuck him. He wasn't real.

* * *

**AN**: Wow. I actually have reviews. That's great news, lol. You two rock so much, I've adored your reviews so far, so per-lease, keep them coming. XD Hope you liked this chapter. Can't really do much about it if you didn't, lol, but I can try and improve for the next chapter. It might take a couple of days longer than usual for the next chapter because I've got a busy schedule ahead of me, and I've barely written 2 pages for it yet. Don't worry. I'll get round to it. Fight Club is too addictive to ignore. And once again, thanks guys. 


	4. Making Up

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own Fight Club or it's characters. Although, if I give you some sweets, would you be willing to give it all to me...? I can hope.

* * *

The rain splattered across the top of my head as I stared across the street, half-wondering what the fuck I was doing and where I was planning to go to. With a small spark of anger, I turned back to look at my apartment building, imagining Tyler's own equal anger towards me. _Great_. Wasn't this going to be fun? Already, I was referring to him as _Tyler_ again. I narrowed my eyes at my own idiocy. He wasn't back. This all had to be some fucked up dream of mine. 

I am Jack's undying confusion.

I tugged a hand through my hair and turned to my left, glancing up and down the street which was crowded with people holding up countless numbers of umbrellas. Why hadn't I brought one?

Ah.

Yes. I hadn't had the time to, considering I had been storming out of my _own_ flat to get away from my _own_ fucking imaginary friend. This was insane. Insane like me.

I let out a small sigh, feeling cold all of a sudden. Reality was hell. And if this wasn't reality, it sucked anyway. It wasn't easy living out a life when there's _nothing_ to live for…

Wait.

Stop. Just _stop_.

Where the fuck had that thought come from? I do have something to live for! I have…my job. I have my own apartment. Marla…even though the last time I'd spoken with her had been a bit of a heated debate…I still…loved her. I froze, eyes widening.

_Rewind_.

I loved her? What the fuck! I _loved_ her now? I stared ahead, gaze not fixed on anything in particular, only vaguely glimpsing a few weird glances I was getting from passers-by. Okay, this day was getting weirder and weirder. I blinked and started to walk, thoughts whirling around my head and making me feel dizzy. For a moment, I pondered on whether or not I should return back to the apartment and see if Tyler was gone…

Marla's dark eyes penetrated that thought, and I blinked again. I should go see Marla, I realised. I needed to talk with her. Now.

I froze again, folding my arms and ignoring the cold water running down my face. No. I couldn't go see Marla! I couldn't…_tell_ her this stuff. With a dawning realisation I chuckled, a small sad laugh at myself, as I noticed that I was fucking scared of talking to her. This wasn't good news.

Suddenly, my thoughts were ripped from me as a large fat man waddled into view, rudely elbowing into me and rushing as fast as fat people could away from me. I raised my eyebrows at his retreating back, hands clenching into fists. Talk about one fucked up individual. His face looked like something off the cover of a zombie movie. You know… the kind of movie a person is always tempted to buy when they have nothing better to watch and just want something to laugh at? I resisted glaring at him and walked on, allowing my feet to lead me wherever.

Time to give in to whatever fate had in store for me. Hopefully my feet would lead me to somewhere interesting. Somewhere distracting. Somewhere away from everything else. Somewhere away from _Tyler_.

Just so long as it wasn't a coffee shop. I was sick of them. Small coffee shops tucked away in hidden corners, everywhere you turned. I'd grown to hate that distinctive smell of coffee lingering along streets. It was beginning to make me gag. Or maybe that was just because of the amount of coffee's I'd probably drowned in the last few months.

I let my thoughts drift to Marla once again. What was I doing? Making my way to her apartment now? How could I talk with her when she'd probably still be angry with me? I bit down on my lip hard, trying to dampen the stubbornness in me. That argument with her last night hadn't been my fault. It wasn't my fucking fault if I got a little angry with her for making decisions on my behalf. I mean, who does that? Especially to me? I've never fucking needed people to make decisions for me.

_Apart from Tyler_, a little voice in my mind nagged me.

I grimaced, feeling angry at everyone all of a sudden. This wasn't fair. Even my own mind had started to contradict me. I could deal with everything by myself.

_Myself_.

But still…I wanted to see Marla. _Fine_. Fair enough. I could bite back any comments, any anger towards her. So long as she'd accept that. The thing is…whenever she vanishes, I'm alone.

I gave a little glance around, looking for the familiar spiked up hair, the sunglasses, or the bright leather suit. None of these were nearby.

Whenever I had been alone without Marla with me the past few months, all I could ever do was think about my life in general. I'd instantly block out thoughts of Tyler. Or Fight Club. I'd attempted to return back to normality, with a great looking apartment. I hadn't bothered with support groups again. I missed Bob. And Bob had died because of me.

Okay, the guilt had almost flattened me the first few months without Tyler. I knew he'd gone. And then it led me to think about…who would take the blame for everything? For Project Mayhem? I'd been disgusted with myself. With everything. Bob's death had been a result of Tyler's control. Of his fucking brain-washing of all of them. But in fact, just telling myself again and again that it had been Tyler didn't do much good. It had been me. Not him. I was the one imagining him up. I was the one giving those stupid fucking orders. I was the one calling them worthless, not Tyler.

Cringing inwardly as my thoughts deepened, I swiftly took another left turn down into a darker-looking road and began strolling down it as fast as I could.

Fuck, it had been a pretty long time since I last took a trip down here.

I blinked, hearing footsteps behind me, and as a result, I tensed. My fists automatically clenched and my breathing slowed as I listened a little more carefully. Ready for a fight. As always.

The footsteps grew further away. Huh. And there was me instantly assuming every person who walks by me is about to land a punch on the side of my head. I really needed to get rid of all the stuff Tyler had influenced me into doing.

My eyes narrowed.

What the fuck!? Why did I keep on thinking about him? I needed to stop. _Need_ to stop. He doesn't exist. Does not exist. It's all me. Just me dreaming stuff up. A guy who seriously needs to get his act together; that's me.

I stopped in my tracks and stared ahead. Fuck. I was here already. At Marla's already. How had that happened? My eyes skimmed over the tattered looking building, and I felt something inside of me stir, warning me. I sighed softly. I wasn't going to go back. Not yet. I didn't want to be alone just yet. I wanted to see her. Needed to.

Jesus, it hadn't even been twenty-four hours, and here I was standing outside the building she lived in, competing with my inner turmoil like some kind of lunatic. And the thing is, I'd actually seen others do it before. Stand outside people's houses with that pained look on their faces. I vaguely wondered if that was how my expression looked now. But _crap_, to be doing this, giving in so easily after just one fucking fight…this must mean I'm desperate. My eyes darkened slightly.

I willed my feet to move. Take another step. Just one more, closer towards her. And out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move from above. Giving a curious glance upwards, I froze in surprise to see Marla watching me above from her window, her curtain drawn across as she held her head in one hand, contemplating me with a raised eyebrow. A stream of steady smoke escaped her lips. She'd been smoking. I inwardly wondered if maybe she had a spare pack for me. I could do with it.

Marla, I mouthed towards her, motioning for her to open the window. She shook her head, strands of her dark hair falling about her face as she watched me blankly. My mind yelled at me to say something interesting. My mouth came up with nothing. I watched her with pleading eyes, feeling desperate. I needed to talk to her. But not out here. She didn't move from the window for a moment, and as I stared at her, helplessly wondering what the fuck I should do now, she finally withdrew, motioning for me to come up.

I am Jack's relief.

My head pounded endlessly with possible comments I could make towards her in an attempt to soothe her before I began my _serious_ discussion with her. How was I going to make up with her this time? It wasn't easy. Who was I kidding? Marla in _general_ wasn't _easy_. And yet we always collided back together again. It really didn't make sense. I always put it down to us both being stubborn and relatable. But maybe it was something completely different.

Did I depend on her too much?

I frowned a little, pushing open the door to the apartment building. I really didn't want to think about what kind of things that question could lead to. I knew I wasn't dependant on people. I was my own person. Despite the fact that I'd had a hell of a load of mishaps along the way…

As I firmly pushed down the button in the elevator, I calmly concluded that perhaps Marla wasn't my main reason for coming here. Maybe it was entirely a different issue altogether. Tyler. His return was ultimately the price to pay for my few months of sanity. Maybe his return wasn't real. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me again. Or maybe the whole thing had been a part of my imagination. Project Mayhem in general.

I swiftly dragged a hand through my unkempt locks as I willed the elevator to move faster. The sooner I managed to talk to her and tell her everything, the better. The sooner I managed to spill out my steadily arising issues, the better. Maybe if I told her everything, she'd stop bugging me about it. The visits to Sarah could stop. Maybe Tyler would disappear.

My eyes rose a little in silent prayer as I hoped that maybe just seeing him again was a sign that I needed to tell someone about him for him to completely vanish from my life. If that was true, I could live in hope?

_Right?_

The elevator doors opened after a small click, and I stepped out, not surprised that I almost ran into Marla who was standing opposite me. Okay, she'd been waiting for me…was that a good sign or a bad sign?

I decided that I was hopeless at this kind of stuff.

"So…?" she asked quietly, eyes not on me but diverted to the floor as she lazily exhaled a cloud of smoke in my face.

My eyes watered as I breathed in too much of it and almost choked.. Must. Not. Cough. My fingers clenched and unclenched, as I tried to figure out what to say.

But what to say to the woman who seemed crazier than myself?

I ended up scratching the back of my head in irritation. Trust me, this happened a lot. In fact, it generally happened whenever I was around people who I was uncomfortable with. And there were a certainly a lot of those type of people.

"Marla…" I started, willing her to move her eyes and give me a glance, a withering look, anything like that…

She didn't look up. I sighed in response before talking again.

"Look…I-I didn't mean any of it earlier. And I'm sorry. Seriously, I am." Again I willed her to look at me. She didn't.

She inhaled her cigarette, and made a sort of disapproving noise in the back of her throat, almost as if she was amused at my apology. I couldn't help it. I tensed.

"That it?" she asked, looking up, and I froze as her dark eyes, the ones which were constantly in my head, shone with unshed tears.

_Shit_.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I really wouldn't be able to deal with her crying. Not now. Not when I was so close to either crying myself or punching the closest wall in frustration.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out, so I did the easiest and most natural thing. I stepped forward, and then suddenly I was kissing her, one hand tangled in her hair while the other rested on the small of her back, pressing her closer to me.

I wasn't sure if the next noise she made was a squeal of surprise or anger, but either way, after a few more moments of desperately clinging onto her and kissing her like nothing else in the world mattered, she responded. Suddenly, her tongue was pushing itself into my mouth, and I couldn't help but grin childishly against her mouth.

This was good. This had to be good. Maybe there wasn't any need for more apologies or talking…

Okay, the idea definitely was attractive for me. But shit, I'd come here to talk to her, hadn't I? As well as apologise. If I didn't get Tyler out of my system—

Marla moaned, and suddenly she was tugging us both down the hallway and into her apartment, her arms firmly wrapped around my chest as she smiled seductively at me, eyes glinting dangerously.

I suddenly remembered why I liked her so much as the heat pooled into my stomach.

She closed the door behind us, waiting for a second to turn around and wrestle my shirt off of me. I grinned again. I couldn't help it. This was so…_Marla_.

Unpredictable, in other words.

"We're going to talk about this in the morning, you know…" I vaguely heard her murmur as she placed a trail of kisses along my neck, her fingers skittering across my shoulders. I nodded before twisting us around, hands ridding her of her clothes as I backed her towards her bed.

I flashed a grin, just before she fell back against it, smirking innocently at me from on top of the covers. Soon, I was falling above her, hands running appreciatively down her sides as I once again realised how much I couldn't afford to let her go.

She kissed me again, and I clung to her, kissing her back with a feverish kind of excitement and frustration.

She made me feel alive.

* * *

It was dark when I woke up. Or maybe that was just because Marla's apartment was always dark, the cluttered rooms filled with a kind of murky feeling. The windows were dirty anyway. Not that I cared. I'd given up caring about things around me in her apartment, so long as Marla herself was there.

I blearily glanced around, and noticed that; firstly, I was lying on my back; secondly, Marla's head was on my chest with all her body wrapped around mine in a kind of warm bundle; and thirdly, my head seriously fucking hurt.

I blinked a few times, willing away the pain, just wanting to fall asleep again and shift closer to Marla, but my head only throbbed in response.

I am Jack's irritation.

Sighing softly, I carefully removed her head from my chest, freezing as she muttered something that sounded like a protest in her sleep before quieting down again. _Great_. So long as she didn't wake up, then I wouldn't have to deal with her talking about what we were meant to discuss last night, or…she'd get all stressy and I'd end up feeling totally guilty or ashamed I'd woken her. Either way, it'd suck.

I positioned her gently, watching her head roll backwards onto her thin pillow as her dark hair splayed about behind her. She really was beautiful.

I tore my gaze from her, afraid she'd wake up and find me staring at her. That'd be embarrassing. Seriously cringe-worthy. Not my thing. Plus, how she'd react would be a bit of an issue…

As I stood up, my head flared up again, and I refused to groan for fear of making Marla aware I wasn't lying close to her anymore.

My feet made small padding sounds as I pulled on some boxers and tip-toed over to the bathroom, turning on the light and shutting the door so it wouldn't seep into the other room and alert Marla enough to wake her.

As I shut the door with a gentle click, I tilted my head forward to rest against the door and let out a shaky breath, not sure why I felt so fucking nervous.

"…Ouch, she's got you real good, hasn't she?"

_Aaaaand_ that would be the reason.

My eyes narrowed, and I blamed my headache for one sixth of a second before I whipped around to face Tyler, who was standing near the sink, analysing me with his dark gaze while a hint of a smirk played on his lips. His blonde hair gleamed irritatingly as it stuck out in all directions.

"Get the fuck out of here." I snapped quietly, eyes blazing as I reached for the lock on the door, deciding that me being stuck in here with him was better than Marla strolling in and seeing me like this.

"You know, I'm starting to get the impression that you've substituted fighting for frustrated sex with that slut." He spoke sharply, tilting his head as he stared at me accusingly.

Was it me, or was there a hint of irritation in his voice?

"Fuck you." I spat back. "Just get out of here."

I tried not to shift around too uncomfortably as I watched his eyes suddenly take a dart downwards my body, and almost froze as another slow smile spread across his face. A secretive smile. I felt all too aware I was only in my boxers.

"Tyler." I warned, not preparing myself to plead with him, but only preparing myself to punch him again.

He noticed my expression, and looked up, almost radiating with some kind of pleased attitude, until Marla was suddenly shifting around in the other room.

"Jack…?" her small, worried voice echoed through the door. I watched as Tyler's face dropped, his smirk vanishing into something that resembled a sneer while he crossed his arms, gazing at me expectantly as I formed a response.

"I'm in here." I finally called, not breaking my staring match with the other contestant.

There was a small "Oh." from her and she didn't ask or say anything else, so I visibly relaxed. Tyler saw this, obviously.

"Have a nice time with her, then?" he continued, eyes prying into mine as they glinted dangerously.

I ignored his idiotic question, jaw tensing as I willed him away.

Fucking _disappear_. _Vanish_. I am _alone_ in this room. _Alone_. He isn't here.

"Christ, she must have been good. You're picturing it now, right? Flashbacks maybe?" he cut through my thoughts loudly and effectively.

I glared at him, hating him for everything he'd ever done and how he was now officially ruining everything in the present.

"Fuck off, Tyler. I mean it."

My comment made him chuckle a little, and I certainly didn't like that. Or think it was good. What the fuck was he playing at? I stared at him, watching as he unfolded his arms, a predatory smile still on his face as he took a step towards me.

I would have stepped back, but I'd already pressed myself as close as I possibly could to the door.

I am Jack's cornered idiot.

Maybe I shouldn't repeatedly to tell Tyler to fuck off in future. It might piss the guy off. Which ultimately wouldn't result in pleasantries on my side of things, right?

I continued to glare at him, daring him to throw the first punch, or the first kick, _anything_, but he remained motionless, standing in front of me as though he was almost deciding on what to say.

Before he could say another word though, I unlocked the door and wrenched it open, causing it to slam against the wall and bounce back as I stepped out quickly and walked away, Marla looking at me with a surprised expression before smiling smugly and wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling me in as she crashed her mouth against mine.

I groaned slightly, forgetting Tyler for a moment, catching his gaze pinned brightly in my direction before I turned away, forcing him out of my mind.

Hopefully he was gone. I half prayed that he better be.

* * *

AN: Okay, this was a sucky chapter. So I'm sorry. I have lots of action coming up (hopefully) so those chapters should be a little more eventful. But yeh, also, I'm sorry I couldn't update sooner. I've been on holiday, I've been obsessing over movies such as The Lost Boys, and I've just generally had writers block. But all is well now, lol. Hope someone finds this chapter slightly okay-ish. Please review, they encourage me to write, lol. Even if it is a flame. Criticism can help sometimes... 


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